


Simple Skills

by aerintine



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-22
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:13:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/804879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerintine/pseuds/aerintine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Post Season 2</p>
    </blockquote>





	Simple Skills

**Author's Note:**

> Post Season 2

_i’m shaken, then i’m still_  
 _when your eyes meet mine  
i lose simple skills  
like to tell you  
all i want  
is now._  
  
  
  
  
  
Caroline uncorks the champagne with a pop and immediately gulps down a mouthful, coughing and spluttering when it backs up into her nose. Undeterred, she tips the bottle again and lets out a satisfying belch after her second swallow. She looks out her bedroom window. The moon’s roundness mocks her and the stars wink, as if knowing why she’s stuck here by herself on this night of all nights.  
  
She’s not used to being alone. Before she died she was the life of the party. She worked really hard at being in the loop. It _was_ work, but the kind that made her feel good at the end of the day. Like she’d accomplished something. At least, it was the kind of work she could _tell_ herself was accomplishment. So what if she could never quite get really good at the intimate parts of being with people?  Not the sex stuff, but the being _close_ stuff.  She learned very early that a winning smile and an upbeat attitude made up for almost any shortcoming. Her pearly whites had carried her through many an annoyance and hardship.  
  
Now those pearlies _are_ her hardship.  
  
Nothing sits right anymore. Oh, she’s still working, still making herself a part of the daily ins and outs of school and friends and community. But it feels a lot like busywork these days instead of the other kind. She’s not sure she can pull off the cheerful smile without looking like she’s auditioning for something. Which, of course, she is. She’s hoping so hard for the role of Normal Girl, but that part’s been taken and she knows it. While she’s in the midst of cheer camp and summer youth council and her Miss Mystic Falls duties, she’s trying _so hard_ not to, well, _eat_ everyone… she knows her smile must falter. Can’t stop working, though. Force of habit is hard to break. She just wants to do her best, that’s all.  
  
Today is her birthday. Yippee. She’s eighteen years old. She’s been looking forward to this for what feels like her whole life. Being a bona fide adult.  
  
Her whole life.  
  
Yeah, that was done and over a while ago now, wasn’t it?  
  
 _You’re dead and gone, dummy. No more older for you. You’re all done with that. Done with the whole ‘years adding up to anything’ thing._  
  
No wrinkles, no brittle bones, no pesky gray hairs. Just this same seventeen-year-old face for the rest of whatever passes for existence. It’s only time, right? She’s got oodles of it, but it doesn’t mean a thing.  
  
None of this counts. Not really. It’s not like she’s _living_.  
  
She knows she’s being unreasonably morose on a day like today. But she finds it hard to drum up any enthusiasm with everything that’s happening. She hasn’t spoken to Matt in a month. She saw him at the Mystic Grill a couple of days ago over lunch with Jeremy and Bonnie, but he avoided her eyes. She supposes it’s just as well, though that doesn’t make it hurt any less.  
  
Stefan’s off doing God knows what and everyone remains in a tizzy over it. Bonnie and Elena spend practically every moment researching leads and spells, looking by turns concerned and grim. Caroline offered to help but was given half-hearted looks and vacant comments about how she must be busy with other stuff and not to worry about it. Basically, they patted her head and showed her the door. Suits her just fine, she tells herself. Nothing over there but misery. And that was never much company.  
  
Even so, she thinks it’s an awful lot for them to handle on their own. They may have Alaric’s giant brain, but they don’t have the resource they need most. Damon locked himself up in that big house and refuses to speak to anyone, even Elena. And they all know if he won’t see Elena it means things are _real_ bad. She rolls her eyes.  
  
Tyler, her most consistently _there_ friend as of late, _and don’t even_ think _about the tense, not-so-just-friendly twinges you’ve been feeling whenever he’s around lately, missy_ is rather preoccupied tonight. She offered to go with him to the newly-reinforced cellar, but he was firm in his insistence she stay away. She knows he means well, but that just makes him one more person who brushed her off. She feels guilty for thinking this of him; she knows it’s not his fault. It all just sucks.  
  
 _Sucks. Heh._  
  
She sighs and drinks.  
  
She misses Stefan; she can feel him out there, somewhere. A tiny thread runs outward from her gut towards him, towards oblivion. It makes sense, she reasons, since they share the same blood. He’s family. Like an uncle, sort of. Except that would make Damon her vampire dad and the eew-ness of that notion is too much to contemplate. She pauses with the bottle at her lips and shivers in disgust. So, _no_ on the uncle bit. Still, though, she feels the connection. It feels like terror and heartbreak and misery and lust and gluttony and careless amusement and a thousand other sins she can’t name but fill her with dread.  And yes, temptation. She tries her best to ignore it, this thread. Nothing good there.  
  
She’ll go after him with the others when they’re ready. She thinks it will be soon. Not that they’ll actually ask her, of course. She’ll go because she has to. Because of this damn thread. She wishes she could cut it. She’d really like to cut something.  
  
She shouldn’t be sitting here alone, hurt that no one remembered her birthday. But Caroline Forbes has never been very good at choosing the right emotions, even back when her heart still beat. She figures being a grown up is for people who actually get to _grow up_ , so for now, she’s gonna drink away her cares and pout.  
  
She takes another swig of champagne. It doesn’t taste like it used to, before she turned. When she could taste more than the bubbles and the faint burn of alcohol in her stomach.  
  
She had champagne on her sixteenth birthday. It fell in the middle of the week, so there was no party scheduled for a couple of nights. Liz had been in a rare mood, and had brought a cheap bottle of bubbly and a pizza home after work. The two of them toasted and drank and got a little silly. Liz told her about _her_ sweet sixteen: she and some girlfriends had gone to a party at an older boy’s house.  She’d been arrested for underage drinking after a neighbor called the police. Caroline had been agape. _Her_ mother. _Arrested._ Like some kind of juvenile delinquent. It boggled.  
  
“So you see,” Liz said with a giggle, “I’m just carrying on the family tradition. All sixteen year olds in our family get caught drinking by the cops.”  
  
Caroline had stared at her like she was a lunatic, before they dissolved into fits of laughter.  
  
 _She’s going to die._  
  
The thought strikes her in the chest with sudden clarity. When? In twenty years, maybe? No, more like thirty, she guesses. Unless the unthinkable happens and her job takes her. Her mom will die some mundane death, sooner or later, and Caroline will _still_ be seventeen. She’ll still be a flibbety jibbet who says the wrong thing and never measures up. Still be just… _here_. And useless. Helpless. Dead.  
  
What will the next thirty years feel like? Or the next forty? Or the next four hundred? She swallows more champagne to dull the ache that’s forming in her head. It doesn’t seem right for immortals to get headaches. Headaches are so, well, _human_ , which is another thing she’s decidedly not anymore. So unfair.  
  
She up-ends the bottle and drains it.  
  
 _Now what?_  
  
The house is quiet. Her mother is working the night shift and won’t roll in until around eight tomorrow. Everyone she knows is unavailable for reasons that grow consecutively more awful. She’s restless and a little dizzy from the champagne. She needs to move.  
  
Should she hunt? She’d dined earlier on an unfortunate fox in the woods by the Lockwood estate. The chase had been brief. When her prize was won and the little creature lay dead at her feet, Caroline was the one who felt drained. She’d fed well, but her stomach still felt hollow.  
  
Fine, then. Hunting it is.  
  
She pulls a shapeless hooded sweatshirt on and slips into her runners. Drags her hair back with a careless twist of an elastic band and squares her shoulders. Sways a little.  
  
 _Guess champagne still works on corpses. Good to know._  
  
She narrows her eyes.  
  
 _Bunnies of the world, beware! Caroline the badass vampire is on the prowl._  
  
She smiles to herself. She is wicked good at hunting; she has to give herself credit for that at least. As she steps out into the night air, her senses reach out. When her mind finds what it’s looking for, she runs.  
  
  
  
Three hapless hares and a surprisingly tasty marmot later, she’s no more sated than when she set out. To make matters worse, she finds herself standing above the entrance to the Lockwood’s prison-dungeony-type-thing that no one is supposed to call a dungeony-type-thing or she gets serious glares. All is quiet. She shifts on her feet for a few moments, trying to decide what to do.  
  
 _He told you not to come. He had a list of reasons why, and they were all very convincing for your personal health and well-being._  
  
She turns around and heads back in the direction of town. Feels a pang. Stops. Presses her lips together in consternation.  
  
 _It’s not like you can see him or talk to him. He won’t know you’re there, and if he did he’d try to rip your throat out and eat your face. You’re not needed or wanted here. Just go home, Caroline._  
  
She nods, determined, and starts walking again. Tells herself it’s fine, he’s fine, she’ll be fine if she forgets tonight and gets some sleep. And she’s really convinced herself she’s doing the right thing, she’s sure of it, when she looks up and sees that she’s right back at the top of the stairs.  
  
 _Oh for Hell’s sake._  
  
She walks down the steps with a huff.  
  
  
When she reaches the bottom, she presses her ear to the coolness of the shiny new steel door. She closes her eyes in concentration.  
  
 _Tyler, it’s me. I’m here._  
  
She flushes in embarrassment when she realizes she only said the words in her head. Says them aloud and waits.  
  
Nothing. Not a peep.  
  
She presses her ear more firmly against the metal.  
  
She’s about to give up when she hears it. A low, mumbling sort of growl, vibrating through the metal. Punctuated by several thumps.  
  
“Yep, that’s you,” she says quietly. “Hey there. How’s _your_ night? Mine sucks.”  
  
In answer, she can just make out a snarling yelp, followed by another thump against the door.  
  
“Tell me about it.”  
  
She opens her eyes and spies something half-hidden in the shadows down the corridor.  
  
“Be right back. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”  
  
She thinks she hears canine paws frantically scraping against the metal, as though trying to dig a hole through the door. She scowls.  
  
“I mean it, Tyler. You stay put.”  
  
The shadowy lump turns out to be an old couch. Tyler must have drug it down here after the contractor finished the “storage locker.” There’s a blanket in a heap on one end. On the cushion farthest from her is a bakery box sitting on top of a wide manila envelope.  
  
Inside the box she finds used paper liners, a lot of crumbs, and one cupcake. Yellow icing. White sprinkles.  
  
She notices writing on the envelope and bends to inspect it.  
  
  
  
 _C-  
  
Figured you’d say to hell with my warnings. I got you these. Sorry I ate the rest. Got hungry waiting for the moon.  
Happy Birthday.  
  
-T_  
  
  
  
She can’t help the smile that creeps across her face.  
  
 _He got you actual birthday cake. He remembered your birthday. Someone remembered._  
  
She sits down on the couch and inspects the envelope. Inside is a piece of thick white paper, ragged at the edges like it was hastily torn from a book. The page is divided in half, a pencil drawing on top and bottom. Her eyes widen at the sight of herself in the first drawing, eyes darkened and fangs extended, snarling at a wolf who looks equally pissed off. Its ears lay back as it growls at her. In the bottom panel, Her face is serene and she sits cross-legged against a tree. The wolf is curled up beside her. Her hand rests on its sleeping head, which lies in her lap. Scrawled across the top of the page in Tyler’s uneven print are the words  
  
  
  
 _Caroline is a Force_  
  
  
  
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and blinks back tears.  
  
“ _Shit._ ” It comes out as a whimper.  
  
 _Cake_ and _a present. A really good present. That’s so… Girl, you’re so doomed._  
  
She puts the drawing carefully back in the envelope and takes a bite of her cupcake. It’s only vaguely sweet to her vampire tongue, but the sprinkles are sprinkly-crunchy and the icing is smooth and icy. She licks her fingers once it’s gone. Tries to remember a better birthday cake. Can’t. Smiles again. She can’t seem to stop smiling. It’s like her mouth has taken over her face.  
  
She flops sideways down on the couch and a breathy, happy sigh escapes her lips.  
  
 _Are you actually happy? Go, you._  
  
Almost as soon as her head hits the cushions she bounces back up and rushes over to the steel door.  
  
“Tyler, can you hear me?”  
  
Sounds of scuffling, yipping, and more thumps are her reply.  
  
“I wanted to say thank you. For the cake. And the drawing. You… well, you made me feel, sort of, I dunno, _real_ I guess? I know you don’t understand me right now, but I need to tell you. Thank you.”  
  
She traces random patterns on the silvery surface with her finger as she feels Tyler’s agitated growling vibrate the door.  
  
After a minute, she slinks down until she’s sitting cross-legged, her shoulder and ear pressed to the metal. Her eyelids feel sluggish. The thumps on the other side of the barrier slow, then stop.  
  
  
  
She wakes to the sound of the heavy door’s locks springing one by one. She rubs her face and pushes herself up. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but she must have. How much time passed? The unholy crick in her neck tells her it’s been awhile. The hazy gray light seeping in from above tells her it’s nearly dawn.  
  
She slides away from the door as it opens inward. A pause, and then Tyler’s face peeks around the edge and looks down at her. His hair is wild and his eyes bloodshot. He’s wearing a soft smile.  
  
“Hey,” he says quietly. His smile doesn’t waver.  
  
She smiles back.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“You’re not supposed to be here.”  
  
She raises her eyebrows.  
  
“Yeah? Is that why you left me presents?”  
  
His smile grows bashful.  
  
“Well, I took a chance. I mean, you’ve never listened to me before, so…"  He shrugs.  "Anyway, Happy Birthday.”  
  
Caroline’s mouth does that thing again, where it smiles so big she thinks a rainbow might fly out of it through her teeth.  
  
“Thanks. But technically it’s not my birthday anymore.”  
  
“Yeah?” He squints at the growing light above the stairs. “I guess you’re right.”  
  
“Not that it matters anyway. Birthdays don’t count for me anymore, do they?”  
  
He looks back at her with a puzzled face.  
  
“What are you talking about? Why wouldn’t it count?”  
  
“Because I’m, you know. Dead. Not getting any older, here.”  
  
Understanding dawns on his face, then he dismisses her statement.  
  
“Whatever. It totally counts. You might not be older, Caroline. But you’re still a year better. And next year will be even better.”  
  
She smiles despite herself. She should really stop doing that any time now.  
  
“You really think so?”  
  
“Well, yeah. Look at you. I’ve never seen you look better.”  
  
She looks down at her rumpled sweats and then back at him in disbelief. But his face is open, sincere. She bites her lip.  
  
He changes the subject.  
  
“Did you sleep here all night?”  
  
She stands up and brushes the dust off her pants, stepping back to give him enough space to exit the enclosure.  
  
“Yep. Looks like.”  
  
She averts her eyes as he steps out fully from behind the door, shirt in hand.  
  
 _Don’t you look, Caroline. Don’t you dare look. Doesn’t matter if you’ve seen it all before. Don’t make a fool of yourself now aaaaand too late. Dammit! You looked! Son of a – oh thank God he put his shirt on. Now pull yourself together._  
  
She suddenly remembers her present and looks at him shyly.  
  
“That drawing…”  
  
“Yeah, I know it’s not very good. I did it fast, last night before the change.”  
  
“No, Tyler. It’s… the best drawing I’ve ever seen. I didn’t know you could do that.”  
  
He looks embarrassed and unsure of himself and _hello_ that’s about the most adorable thing ever.  
  
“It’s just a way to pass the time.”  
  
“Do you have others?”  
  
He scratches the back of his head and toes the stone floor.  
  
“Well, I have a book at home. Would you – “  
  
“Yes.”  
  
She startles them both with her outburst. She blushes. He blushes. They’re both blushing and _when exactly did we turn into Marian and Gary the Librarians? It’s just Tyler. Get it together._  
  
Caroline clears her throat and tries for cheerful and calm.  
  
“I mean, yes, I want to see it if you want to show me.”  
  
He smiles again, this one relieved and maybe a little amused.  
  
“Okay then. We can have eggs. Or – do you wanna catch a rabbit or something for breakfast?”  
  
Her stomach rumbles, as if on cue.  
  
“Really? That wouldn’t gross you out or anything?”  
  
“Nah. You can show me how you hunt. Could be fun.”  
  
She’s never thought of hunting cute fuzzy woodland creatures as _fun._ But why not?  
  
“Okay, let’s go.”  
  
  
  
When they reach the top of the stairs she opens up and breathes deep. She glances at Tyler out of the corner of her eye and sees him doing likewise. They catch the scent at the same time. He looks at her. His pupils are dilated and his mouth slightly open. If her heart beat, it would skip right about now.  
  
“I’ve got it,” he says. “You?”  
  
She nods.  
  
“What say we race for it? Loser makes the coffee when we get back.”  
  
She smirks at him, confidence billowing and filling her insides.  
  
“Deal. Eat my dust, werewolf.”  
  
She takes off in a full sprint, her giggling laughter drifting back to him.  
  
“Hey! Cheater! You’ll pay for that!” he shouts.  
  
He hurries after her, rushing to catch up.  
  
  
They’re a pair of blurs through the trees. Caroline is stunned when she realizes he can run as fast as she can. And as far as reflexes go? Tyler’s are maybe even quicker than hers. They run so fast and so hard they nearly forget why, until the doe suddenly leaps sideways in front of them. Caroline roars at her prey and takes it down, tumbling as she grabs for purchase. The sharp crack when she breaks its spine sends a shiver of pleasure down her own. Without pause she sinks her fangs into the deer’s still-twitching neck and drinks deep.  
  
When she lifts her head from her kill, she sees Tyler about ten feet away, crouched on his haunches.  Watching her. His eyes glow orange-gold and he’s clutching his fingers in the loam so hard his knuckles are white. She wipes the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand and grins at him.  
  
“I win.”  
  
He surprises her by laughing: a full, throaty laugh full of joy and exhilaration. Her triumphant grin grows until she too is laughing. She looks down at the doe. Presses her palm to its brow before rising. She feels full to bursting.  
  
“Come on, Champ," says Tyler, "Let’s go make you some coffee.”  
  
They set off towards the Lockwood house. The sun rises higher and sends dapples through the trees that light them up as they walk.  
  
When Tyler reaches for her hand, there’s no thought of shying away. Caroline returns the gentle pressure of his fingers in kind, and matches her gait to the beat of his pulse through her palm.  
  
  
Steady.  
  
  
Warm.  
  
  
Alive.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
~fin~  
  
  
  
  



End file.
